Gravity
by Cole224
Summary: Albus has been searching for Harry since he was dropped off in a city known as Gotham. What he finds is not what anyone expected. Rewrite of Reactions.
1. Chapter 1

This is my rewrite of Reactions. The quote is from Batman, 1989 movie.

I don't own anything

"_I now do what other people only dream. I make art until someone dies. See? I am the world's first fully functioning homicidal artist_."

Albus Dumbledore had made a serious error. He was standing on the doorstep outside Petunia Dursley's house, having paused there after his conversation with the woman still inside. He had gone after receiving several communications from Arabella Figg, all with the alarming news that she had seen neither Vernon Dursley or his nephew in the weeks following the family's trip out of the country.

Petunia had been rather distraught when he had confronted her, first demanding he leave and blaming him for a tragedy she would not name. In the end, he'd had to resort to looking into her mind for the answers he sought.

The family had set out for the United States, and while in a city by the name of Gotham, Vernon had thrown Harry from their car and left him on the street. It had only been later when Vernon had disappeared. His body had been discovered sometime after.

Harry Potter was missing. Albus would have to find him. It had been weeks since Vernon and Petunia had left him alone in such a large city and Albus stood still a moment, afraid that he would be too late.

There were too many things that could happen to such a small child in such a large city, so far away from anything recognizable. For a moment, he imagined telling Minerva and the firestorm that would incite.

She would be furious with him. It was possible she would go straight to the ministry with the news. Everyone knew of Harry Potter and everyone was expecting him at Hogwarts when he finally turned eleven.

He would most likely be brought in. Cornelias Fudge and several of his benefactors, one of which included Lucious Malfoy, would revel in the excuse to bring him up on charges, would use it to possibly get him removed as headmaster.

Perhaps it would be enough. He was revered in the wizarding world but Harry had defeated Voldemort, caused an end to the war that had taken too many lives. Most had lost at least one loved one during the war, some more than that.

The news that Albus had lost the Boy Who Lived could ruin his standing in the wizarding world.

But it may not have to be that way, Albus thought. He could find the boy. He knew where Vernon had left him. He would head to Gotham City himself. He would find Harry Potter himself.

Xxxxxxxxx

_Two years later_

The room wasn't too dirty, considering who lived there. It was mostly bare except for a table near the center and a stand in the corner with a small television resting on it. The television was on, the news report playing at a low volume.

The walls were covered with paint, different colors mixing together eclectically. There was only one occupant in the room at that moment in time. The boy sat on top of the table, his thin frame engulfed by the black shirt he had stolen two nights previously.

His legs were crossed and he was bent over, his messy dark hair falling into his eyes, although he made no attempt to brush it back. His small hands were working on something laid out before him.

He placed a brown box carefully on the face down paper before he began to wrap it. The paper was colorful, smiling clowns staring up at him as he worked, taping the paper in place. The wrapping job was a little messy but he wanted it that way. It would look more authentic.

In the background, the news report continued to play. The video had been played countless times since it had been found and it had Gotham in an uproar. Obviously filmed by one of those handheld cameras, the picture was a little shaky as it first focused on a man slumped on the floor.

The black suit the man wore was a good replica of Batman's own. Most people would not be able to tell it wasn't. After all, Batman hardly ever stopped long enough for anyone to inspect what he was wearing.

The person behind the camera was mocking the look-a-like, his tone alternating randomly between harsh and playfully amused. The camera swung suddenly around, focusing on the painted white face of the camera holder as he spoke not only to the people of Gotham but to the real Batman.

The boy on the table was ignoring the report. He had finished his wrapping job. All he had to do was mail it.

Xxxxxxxxxx

"Are you going to tell me how you met this man, at least?" Gordon tried to keep his voice calm. Sitting there, across from the child who couldn't have been older than ten. He had a child of his own, however, and he couldn't imagine what this one had gone through, keeping company with a psychopath like the Joker.

"He was gonna kill me," the child answered finally, the first words he had spoken since they had captured Joker and found the boy.

"Well, he won't be able to hurt you now…" Gordon started, misinterpreting the boy's expression.

"I wanted him to, so he didn't." The words were said calmly and the child cocked his head to the side.

"He took you instead?" Gordon asked, disturbed now by the child's words and by the look in his eyes.

The boy shrugged. "You don't get it." He smiled then and there was amusement shining in his eyes. "You will though, when he's finished."

Xxxxxxxx

Harry Potter watched the display with a certain level of disinterest. He was satisfied for the moment that his package would most likely be received in the next day. He tilted his head as he watched Joker torment the mob guy.

It was interesting how people seemed to think Joker could be intimidated. It was funny even. In fact, Harry had to put his fists against his mouth to suppress another giggle that wanted to escape. It was all just so very funny.

And when the pile of money went up in flames, Harry watched with a fascinated gleam in his eyes.

Xxxxxxxx

Harry rocked back and forth on the table, his attention straying back and forth from the news program that was playing. The news report relaying the facts that Joker had been caught and that Batman was being accused of murder.

He giggled a bit at that. The cops were chasing down Batman this time. It was an amusing end to all of Joker's plans. He considered what he should do. Should he break Joker out? He could let it be.

He reached over and picked up one of Joker's toys he'd left behind, playing with it a bit. He wondered how much chaos it would cause if he blew a hole in Arkham Asylum.

Xxxxxxxx

Harry skipped back to the place he was staying. The police sirens were particularly loud but he ignored them. He'd made his own artwork. Sitting on top of the closest building he could get to next to Arkham. He'd pressed the little red button and the boom had sounded, the fire had burned.

He rather liked fire. He liked the way it had raged along the building. He wondered idly how many people had gotten out before the fire had caught them up as well but decided he didn't care. He'd given Joker and all those other people locked inside the chance.

Harry stopped, tilted his head when he reached the building he'd been staying in as of late. The door was open. Putting a hand in his pocket, he gripped the handle of his knife and wondered if a homeless person or a thief had wondered inside. He grinned at the thought.

When he got inside, however, what he found was an old man waiting for him. An old man in what appeared to be a dress. Harry did not lose his grip on the knife.

"Harry!" The old man looked immensely relieved to see him but Harry narrowed his eyes. He didn't like people knowing his name. The only people who knew his name were the ones from before. He _almost _brought the knife out, and then the old man began to speak.

He spoke for quite a while, spoke of magic and there were several points where Harry stopped paying attention and wondered that, if he threw the knife, would he be able to hit the old guy's throat?

Then the old man had pulled out what looked like a wooden stick, waved it at the television and Harry's eyes lit up when it lifted up into the air, hovering there.

"Magic?" Harry asked.

"Yes, it's quite wonderful isn't it?"

"Yes," Harry answered, a grin spreading across his face. _What art I could do with this! _


	2. Chapter 2

_"I'm the monster who's gonna devour you. It's begun. It's too late now, there's no goin' back!"—Claire Stanfield, Baccano! _

Albus studied Harry while he explained who he was and Harry's origins. The boy sat cross legged on top of the table and rocked as Albus explained things. He seemed not to be paying attention at all, and showed no reaction to the story of how his parents died and of why he was so very famous among the wizarding world.

The poor boy must have been living on the street. Harry's hair hung over his eyes and he watched Albus through the messy strands. Albus was just about to tell Harry about Hogwarts when the boy's gaze snapped from his to the corner of the room, where a television sat. It was on, although the volume was low.

Harry got up off the table and walked slowly over to it, now completely ignoring Albus. He turned the volume up and Albus frowned, following after him. _Breaking News _was flashing across the bottom of the screen and they showed a picture of a building that looked as if it had been severely damaged.

"Harry, you must listen-"

"Shhh. I'm waiting."

"Waiting for what?" Albus' frown deepened but Harry didn't answer, instead turning his attention back to the television. Albus learned in the following minutes that the report was on an asylum for the criminally insane and that someone had attacked the building. The woman on the screen was speculating about who might have escaped in the chaos.

Several pictures of several men and women flashed across the screen but the prominent one was of a man with a painted and scarred face.

"…_It is still not known who set the attack on Arkham Asylum in motion and the authorities have not shared yet what the motives might be. However, the attack was focused in one area and it is confirmed that at least one person escaped during the chaos. It has not yet been confirmed who but from the early reports, the theory at this point is that one of Gotham's most notorious criminals has once again been set loose__-" _

Before the woman could finish her sentence, Harry reached forward and switched off the television. "I'm done. We can go now."

"Harry…"

"We should go before he comes back," Harry said, his wide green eyes emotionless.

"Before who comes back?" Albus asked warily.

"You promised to take me away." The look in Harry's eyes turned innocent and frightened and Albus' suspicion turned to empathy immediately.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Fear, despite being one of the emotions that Harry never remembered feeling, was so very easy to imitate. And adults, they were so easy to fool. Even this old man because it didn't take long for the old guy to pull out an old shoe from his pocket.

"This, Harry, is a portkey-"

And that was it, really. They were off. Harry thought it best. No matter how interesting it would be if Joker walked in while the old guy was still there, he found it more interesting what he could do with _magic. _

Xxxxxxx

"We will still need to discuss your living arrangements." Albus watched the boy. He'd been watching the boy closely since he'd found him. There was something off. Something wrong with this child.

Albus didn't want to think of what his mistake had caused. He even avoided going into the child's head for fear of what he would find. Still, he was convinced that whatever damage two years living on the street had caused could be reversed. His plans would still work, he would make sure of that.

"Living arrangements." Harry did not look up from his food, nor did he show any interest in the other occupants of the Leaky Cauldron. It was one thing Albus supposed seemed normal, the fact that Harry ate as if he hadn't in years.

"Yes. I know what happened with your aunt and uncle but I still believe that your aunt's home is the safest place for you, Harry."

"My aunt?" Harry finally looked up and there was a smile on his face. Before Albus could question the look of that smile, a new voice interrupted them.

"Professor Dumbledore!" Hagrid was there, hurrying over, an excited look on his face. Harry still didn't look up from his food and he still looked uninterested when Albus explained that he had business to attend to and that Hagrid would be showing Harry Diagon Alley.

Xxxxxxxxx

Hagrid was easily appeased by the excitement on Harry's face as he skipped along beside the giant through Diagon Alley. Their first stop, of course, was Gringotts. Harry watched the goblins with a fascinated gleam in his eyes.

His main interest however, and the reason he hadn't yet slipped away from Hagrid was the wand shop. Unfortunately for him, Hagrid did make a mistake when he sent Harry in to get his school robes. He left. Harry was fast losing interest in the pretending game and was beginning to get a bit annoyed when the owner of the robe shop interrupted him and pushed him over to stand on a stool, only to leave him standing in the pinned up robes. There was another boy there, standing on a stool as well. Harry was contemplating the usefulness of keeping up the game when the boy spoke.

"_Hello. Hogwarts too_?"

He wondered what sort of things were sold in Knockturn Alley. That place sounded much more interesting.

"_My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands_," said the boy, who didn't seem to care that Harry hadn't answered him. "_Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow_."

Harry chewed on a fingernail as he ran through the possibilities that magic could open up for him. He was sure there were all sorts of delightful spells he could learn. He could make art with a flick of his wrist and without even using a knife.

"_Have you got your own broom?" _The boy huffed when Harry didn't answer. "Are you listening to me?" He asked, affronted.

Harry tilted his head. He was bored. Bored and still annoyed. He stepped off the stool.

"What are you doing?"

Harry pulled the robes over his head.

"What are you wearing? You're not muggle-born, are you?" There was a sneer in the boy's voice then and Harry considered using the pins in the robes he'd just discarded to close the boy's mouth.

Harry glanced towards the front of the shop. The shop keeper was still being harassed by several girls and Harry was still considering doing damage to the kid next to him. He didn't like this game, this pretending to be a kid.

"Are you deaf? Or just stupid?"

Harry pulled the closed knife from his pocket, opening it and pressing the tip to his lips. He rocked back and forth a moment, his gaze on the other boy. The boy must have seen something in his eyes, that light that said he would, if he wanted, use the weapon because when he spoke again, there was a note of fear.

"What are you doing?"

Harry took a step closer and the boy tried to scramble back, falling from the stool in the process. Harry leaned over him with a grin on his face. It would be easy, so easy to close the kids mouth for good but…

"The game's not over yet." Harry straightened abruptly, waved to the boy and then turned on his heel to leave, going unnoticed by Madam Malkin, who was still preoccupied with the girls.

Xxxxxxxxx

Knockturn Alley was definitely gloomier than Diagon Alley. Harry wondered through it, stopping at random intervals to peer into the shops. Gloomier, but definitely more interesting.

"Are you lost, child?"

Harry turned at the voice and stared at the witch. She was old and just as grimy as the alley and there was a look in her eyes that Harry had seen before. He grinned and continued the game.

"Yes, I am. Can you help me?"

Xxxxxxxxx

People, Harry thought, as he wiped his bloody hands on the witches already stained robes were so easily surprised. The witches face was still fixed in that surprised look, actually. She'd been so easy, taken in by his age. Joker had called him the perfect killer once. No one expected him to turn on them with a knife in hand.

Harry pulled the wand from the witches limp fingers, studying it a moment. It wouldn't hurt, he supposed, to have backups. He skipped away from the corpse, twirling the wand and humming as he went.


	3. Chapter 3

I changed the rating because I'm paranoid and this is going to get violent.

_"__There's a certain person that I just love to kill. It doesn't even matter whether they're weak or strong. The people I live to kill that really get me jazzed... never see it coming. Never. They're in some happy place where they're sure nothing can get them. Dying is the furthest thing from their minds. Maybe they're thinkin' about what they're gonna have for dinner. Just like you were. Right before I walked in.__"—Ladd Russo_

_Two years earlier_

The first person Harry killed after his uncle did nothing to him. He'd simply been unable to think of anything else. All he could think about was that look in his uncles eyes before he'd poured the burning liquid over them. Harry imagined that there had even been surprise in the loud scream that had erupted from his uncle's mouth.

Harry waited in the alley, waited for someone to take the short cut home, still thinking about it. Still picturing that surprised look in Vernon's eyes. The man who decided to take that short cut was dressed in a business suit and looked rather harassed. Harry stepped out of the shadows when he'd made it halfway down that alley.

"Sir! Please help!" He ran to the man, falling easily into the scared little boy role, the game he'd been playing whenever he encountered anyone that wasn't Joker. Harry almost grinned when he caught the instant annoyance on the man's face, followed by concern that Harry was sure was fake.

"What's the matter? Are you lost? Where are your parents?" He fired off the questions while glancing around, most likely looking for an out. When he finally took in Harry's appearance, though, real concern and shock entered his expression. Harry's clothes were still stained with his uncle's blood, he knew.

"What happened?" The man demanded, kneeling so that he could look Harry in the eye.

"I'm experimenting," Harry said just before he lunged forward with the knife in his hand that he'd been hiding. The man didn't even try to dodge the attack. He, of course, didn't expect it. The knife sank easily into his neck, causing a spray of blood that further stained Harry's clothes and his face.

Harry's gaze never left the man's eyes. He watched in fascination at the surprise in them, mixed with fear. The man choked, hand going to the wound when Harry pulled the knife away. The fear was strong there in those eyes, and Harry remained where he was, kneeling over the man when he finally fell onto his back. He didn't take his eyes from the man's until they became fixed and his arms went limp.

Harry finally straightened and stood there for several minutes, head tilted to the side. They were all so afraid. His uncle used to call him a freak and Harry had never understood why but he _was _different because he _wasn't _afraid. And if he wasn't afraid, then he wouldn't be surprised.

He felt no remorse for the fact that he _liked _seeing that surprise and fear in other people's eyes.

Xxxxxxxxx

Harry slipped into the wand shop by himself. Harry glanced around the tiny place, at the hundreds of boxes stacked to the ceiling.

_"Good afternoon." _

Harry didn't jump, too used to Joker popping up out of nowhere with a bloody knife and a bad joke. Harry studied the man standing before him a moment. He was an old man with wide, pale eyes and Harry cocked his head.

"Hello."

"_Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry Potter." It wasn't a question. "You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work_."

Harry rocked on the heels of his feet as the man spoke, uninterested in the talk of Lily and James Potter. It wasn't until after the old man had spoken of his father's wand, that Harry stilled. Annoyance settled in when the man moved closer and he reached out to touch Harry.

_"And that's where..." He touched the lightning scar on Harry's forehead with a long, white finger. "I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands... well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do..."_

Harry was hardly able to suppress the urge to reach out and snap the man's fingers. As satisfying as it might be, it would be more satisfying to learn how to do it with magic. His annoyance only grew the longer he stayed in the shop. He was about ready to abandon the game altogether when the final wand the old man shoved into his hands warmed there and sparks shot from the end. The old man looked entirely too excited.

_"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather - just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother why, its brother gave you that scar. Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember... I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter... After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things - terrible, yes, but great."_

Harry grinned and he let the old man see something of who he really was in that grin. "Oh, yes. I will do great things. You can be sure of that." He turned and walked out of the shop, smile still in place.

Voldemort…Harry had heard that story entirely too much. The supposedly terrifying wizard that had tried to kill him when he was a baby. And the wizards, showing such cowardice by not even saying the name, as if saying it would make Voldemort pop up beside them from thin air. The people of Gotham weren't even that afraid of Joker.

He'd make them all afraid of something else. Just like Joker had taught him and nobody would expect it. He'd surprise them all.


	4. Chapter 4

_"I say before I kill you, I'm going to make you squeal like a pig you fat, pathetic, piece of dung."_—Callisto

Hagrid had looked rather harassed by the time he found Harry. He kept a large hand on Harry's shoulder after that. Harry only stifled a mild annoyance at this. He was more annoyed when the giant steered him back towards the robe shop.

He didn't see why wizards insisted on wearing dresses all the time. They didn't look nearly as comfortable as the clothes he already had on. He did manage, however, to get through the rest of the shopping without stabbing anyone, though.

It wasn't long until he was back at the Leaky Cauldron. Dumbledore was waiting for him again. "I would like to take you back to your aunts house now."

"Alright then," Harry agreed, hiding a smile. His aunt had escaped punishment last time, after all.

He was quiet beside Dumbledore as they made the trip. "I will speak with your aunt before I leave," Dumbledore assured him, knocking on the door. It was jerked open soon after and Harry grinned at the sight of his aunt. She looked positively haggard. She immediately tried to slam the door in their faces but Dumbledore put a hand on it to stop her.

"What are you doing here?! Get away from me!" She shrieked, her glare swinging from Dumbledore to Harry.

"What's the matter, Aunt Petunia?" Harry spoke up, his grin widening. "Aren't you happy to see me?"

She shrieked some more until Dumbledore silenced her and dragged her towards the kitchen. Harry glanced around the living room. The place wasn't as spotless as he remembered. He walked towards the mantle over the fireplace and giggled a bit at the latest pictures of Dudley.

When Dumbledore and Petunia came back into the room, the woman looked uncommonly docile.

"Well then, Harry. I'll see you on September first then." He laid a hand briefly on Harry's shoulder and then he was gone.

"Take your things upstairs. You'll be staying in Dudley's second bedroom." She gave a sour look as she said it.

"Okay, then." Harry whistled as he went. He dumped the school trunk on the floor and, still carrying the cage with the owl that Hagrid had bought him, he opened the window. He lifted the cage to look the owl in the eyes. The thing didn't like him much. After a moment of contemplating what he should do with the animal, Harry started back downstairs.

Petunia was in the kitchen. She was cooking, her movements jerky and angry. Harry noted several things. He'd already noticed that most of the expensive things that Petunia had prided herself on years ago were gone.

"What boy?" Petunia asked angrily when she noticed him watching her. "Don't think I want you back here. It should have been you that died in that city."

Harry ignored her feeble ranting. The door opened midway through her rants and Dudley called out. Harry grinned in delight.

Xxxxxxxx

Dudley and Petunia had not had a good two years. With Vernon gone, so was their steady source of income. They were very lucky that the house was paid off. Petunia found, to her horror, that she needed to get a job. She ended up working at the local grocery store.

As a woman who was, before, used to the finer things, she now found herself barely affording the essentials in life. Dudley was none too happy. He was, after all, used to getting whatever he wanted.

He had even lost weight because his mother had had to stop buying all of his favorite foods in such great quantities and he no longer got his weekly allowance of pocket money.

Then, he came home one day when he was eleven and found the freak sitting there in the kitchen as if he'd never left. The resulting temper tantrum was worse than any of the ones he'd ever thrown.

Xxxxxxxxx

Harry sat, giggling, at the display as Dudley ranted and cried and Petunia tried to calm him down. His eyes narrowed, however, when he heard the word 'freak' leave Dudley's mouth several times.

Well, the pig would definitely have to be punished for that. At the end of it, Petunia was screaming as well and Dudley had been sent up to his room. Seemed Petunia had lost some of her patience with her son when Vernon had died.

"And you!" She turned to Harry. "You're here and I don't like it but seems I can't throw you out. But as long as you are here, you'll follow my rules. You'll-"

Harry brought out his knife, abruptly angry at her tone, and brought it down point first on the wooden table. It stuck there but Harry kept a grip on the handle, his knuckles white. He glared at his aunt. She stepped back at the look on his face and at the appearance of the knife.

"How dare you-"

"You're not being very nice, Aunt Petunia." Despite the hatred and anger pulsing in his veins, he didn't yell the words. Petunia had never learned the true meaning of that. It was always more effective when you weren't yelling. He'd seen Joker strike fear into hardened mobsters without ever raising his voice.

"I'm being nice, you know," he continued. He swung his legs in the chair and tilted his head. "I've played nice all day long."

His eyes narrowed. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. This game of his. If he followed the rules of the game, it meant he shouldn't kill the woman standing before him. Then the others would know the ending.

Maybe there was a way…

"I don't think this is going to work out," Harry said in mock regret. He stood and took his knife with him back upstairs to his designated room. He rummaged in the trunk he'd been directed to buy in Diagon Alley until he found a quill and parchment, scowling ever so slightly. It was such an inconvenience.

The note he wrote was short and to the point and then he turned to the bird that Hagrid had bought him. The thing stared at him with something akin to dislike as he started closer.

"You really are a smart one, aren't you?" Harry asked with a grin when she edged away from him. "How about this? You deliver this one letter and after that, you can run off? Or…fly off. I have no need for a pet."

The bird took the letter willingly enough and Harry titled his head and giggled at the reproachful look she gave him before she flew out the window, hopefully never to return again.

Xxxxxxxx

Lucius Malfoy was just sitting down to tea, intent on a relaxing evening, when the snow white owl landed on the table in front of him. He sneered briefly at the owl for disrupting his evening but, even so, reached for the letter it was carrying.

His eyes widened ever so slightly when he read the contents of the very brief note, apparently coming from an anonymous informant. Oh, yes. This would have to be checked out. He leaned back in his chair as the owl flew away. Perhaps he could manipulate a few people into doing the job for him. It wouldn't due for him to be caught out if the note was a lie…

Xxxxxxxx

The masked men broke in through the front door. Petunia was just setting the table for dinner, her son sitting and waiting. The little freak had gone out, thankfully, and hadn't returned yet. Although she might have wished he would have when the two men turned their wands on her and Dudley.

They asked questions she couldn't answer. And the pain, when one of them uttered a curse, was unbearable. She babbled out answers, telling them things that they hadn't even asked. How her husband had died, how they'd thrown Harry Potter out in a muggle American city two years earlier.

The last thing she heard before the green light enveloped her was her child squealing in pain and fear.

Xxxxxxxxx

Harry swung higher on the swing, a grin on his face. He swung his legs forward, forcing the swing higher and ignoring the sirens in the distance. He dearly wished that he could have been there for the slaughter he knew had taken place but it wouldn't due for him to be caught out by fully grown dark wizards. As much as he was loathe to admit it, he wasn't trained enough to deal with it.

The old man who had left him at the house had admitted to a fatal flaw in the wards that kept dark wizards out. He'd said they would remain intact as long as Harry thought of it as home. He had his doubts. After all, how could he consider that place home when he had spent two years in Gotham?

Harry let go of the swing and leapt forward at the highest arch, landing on his feet. He practiced his innocent, devastated expression all the way back to number four.


End file.
